If Things Had Been Different
by GirlWednesday
Summary: Paul survives the attack, but will it improve or destroy his relationship with Ben? The truth comes out about why his Grandmother lied to him all those years, which leaves him wondering if he was better off not knowing.
1. Chapter 1

Paul awoke to the loud ping of his phone. Rubbing his eyes, he leant across and retrieved it from the bedside table.

He stretched out in the single bed, noting Ben's absence; the crashing about in the kitchen gave a clear indication of where he had gone. This in itself had taken a long time for the Cokers to adjust to. They were a small family, who had always made sure their home life was as peaceful as they could make it.

Yes, the general unspoken rule was that if any member of the family was up before the others, they would go about their morning routine in the quietest way possible.

This soon came to an abrupt end. At first, the sound of slamming doors, chairs scraping across the floor and the radio blasting had been a major disruption to the family.

Paul had bit his tongue.

Les had faked a smile, claiming that it reminded him of the time Laurie had an exchange student live with them for that week back in 1991.

Pam, on the other hand, had been far less accommodating. Of course, she considered herself far too polite to take it up with Ben directly; however, she made a point of purchasing ear plugs and would suggest that if Ben really wanted a confrontation with his sister, shouting out to the street below from Paul's bedroom window was probably not the best way to do it.

As the weeks went by, Ben's presence in the flat became more and more frequent and after a while, they had learned to adapt. Les had made the first move, claiming that if they couldn't beat him, they might as well join him and that very morning, he sang in the shower for the first time in his life.

Pam had soon followed suit; there once was a time where the television would remain switched off until everybody was out of bed, however, she had soon discovered that early morning Jeremy Kyle was fast becoming a guilty pleasure of hers.

In a short space of time, their morning routine went from boring and dreary to a flurry of activity and madness. Just the other day, Paul had rolled out of bed, turned on the radio and danced around the kitchen in his underwear.

After the song was over, he had come face to face with his grandfather – he had braced himself for the telling off he once would have inevitably received, but instead, Les had simply laughed and complimented him on his impressive air guitar skills.

Yes, life for the family had changed and they were happier about it than what they ever could've imagined.

Bringing himself out of his thoughts, he unlocked his phone and read the message.

It was from Lauren.

 **The pictures turned out great. Let me know what you think** **xx**

They had turned out more than great- They were perfect.

He studied the pictures, taking in every detail. He could still hardly believe that this was happening. Him and Ben were going to be managers of the family business.

He was still getting used to referring to it as Coker and Grandson, in fact, he had written it down several times in an attempt to gain familiarity and had asked Ben to call him several times, so he could practice saying it down the phone.

He quickly typed out his response.

 **Amazing! I love them all x**

After a few seconds, the phone buzzed again.

 **So glad you liked them. Ps, how cute is this? X**

He clicked on the picture attached and waited for it load. It was of baby Louis. He was curled up on Steven's lap like a cat and was wearing purple fuzzy onesie. Paul couldn't help but smile.

 **Adorable. I want one :P x**

Her reply was lightning fast. **Will Coker and Grandson one day be Coker and Grandsons? Xx**

Paul blushed, embarrassed. Lauren had gotten the wrong end of the stick. Quick to put things right, he fired off his response. **Haha, I was talking about the onesie, NOT the baby** **x**

After a slightly longer pause this time, her reply came through. **Well, if you ever did and it was a girl, you can call her Vada X**

Paul frowned, as a child, he had encountered many My Girl references growing up. **Very funny. I hate that film. x**

This wasn't strictly true.

It was actually one his favourites.

After all, it wasn't as if any of the other children at school lived at an undertaker's. Therefore, whenever he was teased about it, or felt like no one could relate to him, he would track down the video and slot it into his Nan's old VCR.

He credited that film with helping him embrace his unconventional home life, but also cursed it for leaving him with a massive bee phobia.

 **I love it! I cry every time.**

At this point, Paul considered it safe to reveal his secret. **Okay, I lied. I've seen it a hundred times!**

 **We should do a movie night!** Lauren replied.

 **Yes, definitely, when me and Ben move into the flat, come over. We'll drink wine and cry together xx**

 **Yea OFC :P xx**

Paul placed his phone back on the table and wondered whether being friends with Lauren would be awkward (after all, she was Abi's sister.) Pushing the thought to the back of his mind where he hoped it would stay, Paul leant over and retrieved a brochure from underneath his bed.

As promised, Ben had gotten in touch with the customer from the garage who owned the flats around the back of George Street.

After dinner last night, Ben had met the man at the Vic and stayed until last orders. Ben had explained the situation and bought him drinks all evening.

By the end of the night, Ben had sweetened the deal. Therefore, with the promise of a free MOT at the garage and some expert haggling, Ben had practically cut the rent in half.

He had come in drunk, and had knocked over the kitchen table as he stumbled into it. Paul had gotten out of bed and was just about to start an argument, however, he was soon stopped in his tracks when Ben flashed him a winning smile and held up a set of keys to their new home.

Ben had already been for a viewing, but all Paul had seen was what was in the brochure.

What he knew so far was that they were going to be on the fourth floor, there was access to a roof terrace and the Wi-Fi signal was exceptional.

He looked at the photograph of the bedroom – it was huge compared to the box room he was in now.

Paul had never had anything bigger than a single bed in his life. Therefore, his one demand to Ben was that he wanted to go shopping for the biggest bed they could find - a double bed wouldn't cut it, he was thinking bigger, much bigger.

Ben had replied that Paul could buy a bouncy castle for all he cared, just as long as there was a pool table in the lounge – Paul was certain that it would dominate the room and look ugly, but for his bed, he was willing to compromise.

Flicking over the page, he was presented with the kitchen. It was fully furnished, which included a fridge that doubled up as an ice maker. Paul had been particularly excited by this, stating there would be far more space in the freezer, without ice cube trays cluttering up the place – At this, Ben had rolled his eyes.

The work surfaces were a black glossy marble and were arranged in an L – shape around the room.

An impressively large breakfast bar took centre stage of the room. Paul liked to imagine, him and Ben sat around it each morning, before heading off to work, and eating dinner at it after a long day.

He had even envisaged it at Christmas time, with a huge turkey in the middle and his grandparents, either side of him, glass of wine in one hand and a cracker in the other.

Finally, the flooring was a shiny wooden floor board – The kind that would send you flying backwards if you were to walk in wearing socks.

Paul saved the best page until last – The bathroom. It was truly stunning.

Not only did the shower have a built in radio, there was also a bath that had Jacuzzi jets in them. It was just like the time he went to stay with his Aunty Mim for the weekend.

Shortly after his Dad died, Pam had been consumed in her grief to such an extent that Les had deemed it necessary to shield Paul from it.

He had expected to stay in her dingy bungalow, but instead, she packed up the car and took him to the fanciest hotel he'd ever been in.

Staring at the page now, memories of that trip came flooding in; all it needed was to be stocked up with mini soaps and fluffy towels and it would be an almost exact replica of that hotel bathroom.

Suddenly, a thought hit him. Why stop at having the just the bathroom looking like the hotel's when he could decorate the bedroom in the same way?

Paul squeezed his eyes shut and brought the memory to the forefront. He could see it now – he had been in an adjoining room to Mim's. Even though there was only a door separating him and his aunt, at the age of nine, it seemed like the ultimate signal of independence.

He could still picture it now, the mattress was so soft, it felt like he would sink all the way into it, there was a picture of a carasoul hanging above the bed and on the wall, there had been a hi tech flat screen TV, complete with a DVD player.

Paul felt his lips form a massive grin. The thought of that trip always put him in a good mood, no exceptions. It had come at a time where he thought that he would never be happy again.

The morning he left to go and stay with Mim, Les had packed him a bag and told him to give Pam a kiss goodbye. He had shaken his head and dug his heels into the ground – There was no way his granddad was sending him away like this.

Les had knelt down and tried to reason with him, but Paul had had been a stubborn child. Looking back, it was at this moment when things finally fell apart for his granddad.

For weeks, Les had been doing his upmost to take care of his grieving wife and grandson. Pam had locked herself away in her bedroom and Paul had taken to misbehaving in a misplaced attempt at grieving for his beloved father.

Looking back now at the age of twenty, Paul could see what a mammoth task his grandfather faced.

Pam had completely retreated, leaving Les to deal with the funeral on his own.

Additionally, Paul's upbringing had once been a joint adventure his grandparents were on; however, Pam could barely get dressed in the morning, let alone look after a young, vulnerable child.

Therefore, Les had had to care for both Pam and Paul, do all the house work, and work full time to keep business the afloat - It would've been a daunting task for even a person half his age.

After weeks of keeping this up, it would appear that Les had just snapped.

Les had grabbed his arm with the strength of ten men and dragged him into the bedroom, kicking and screaming.

He slammed the door behind them, and whipped open the curtains, all the while, shouting at Pam to get up and say goodbye to her grandson.

At this, Pam had sat up in bed and begged Les not to take the young boy away – she needed him here with her.

She had gotten out of bed, grabbed hold of him and refused to let go. By this stage, Paul had broken down in noisy sobs and was holding onto his grandmother just as tightly.

Les had been harsh in his reply.

He told her that she had been neglectful of their young grandchild since Laurie's death and until she was able to be a proper grandmother, Paul was going stay with Mim.

Despite her tears, there was no way that he was backing down.

At the time, Paul had viewed his grandfather's actions as pure evil, however looking back now, he knew how heart-breaking it must have been for him.

Les had prised them apart by force and with a strength that no one would have ever guessed he had, he threw Paul over the shoulder and carried him out to the car and forcibly strapped him in.

This had not gone down well and Les had found himself kicked, scratched and bitten in the process.

Les had flashed a smile at the Nosy Spring lane neighbours, pretending that there was nothing unusual about the way he had manhandled the small child, or the epic tantrum Paul was currently throwing.

Paul could still remember how Les had seemed to shut down on the journey over there; he had gripped the steering wheel tighter than what was necessary and despite the fact his grandson had gone purple in the face from all the crying, he didn't move his eyes off the road for a single second.

At the time, Paul had felt ignored. As he grew older, he would reflect on that morning and slowly it dawned on him that Les had been so overcome by his grief and the weight of his responsibilities, his mind had simply shut it all out.

When they had finally arrived at Mim's, Paul had worked himself up into a frenzy, to such an extent that he was sick.

Les had barely batted an eyelid.

Mim, of course had been naturally horrified at the sight.

Stood in front of her was a nine-year-old child crying hysterically, his T-shirt soaked in his own vomit; even worse, her brother in law seemed to be doing nothing about it.

Mim gave Les her best death stare, wrenched the bag of Paul's clothes from his hand and pulled the child inside, not even giving the pair a chance to say goodbye.

There and then, Mim had decided that if she wanted to restore any sort of normality for Paul, she would have to do a lot better than keeping him cooped up in her bungalow. So, within an hour, she had bathed him, changed his clothes and they were on the road.

As it turned out, she had made the right call. Paul had loved the hotel and the swimming pool attached to it.

Every morning, he would have a breakfast of pancakes and waffles; every evening, Mim would take him out to a new restaurant.

In the past, Mim had hardly been eager to play aunty, however, she had really pushed the boat out on that trip.

She took him to the cinema, she bought him ice-cream and took him toy shopping, until eventually, Paul started to resemble the same happy go lucky child he had been before Laurie's death.

On the last night of the week long trip, Paul had climbed onto her lap and had told her it had been the best holiday ever, but he now wanted his Nan.

Mim, who usually commended herself on her ability to stay composed, allowed herself to become teary as she told him that Pam missed him too, very much.

When Paul had returned to Spring Lane, his Grandparents had put on a united front.

For the first time since Laurie had died, Pam had worn make up and had styled her hair; Les on the other hand had changed out of his usual undertaker attire and had looked so much more relaxed in a pair of baggy joggers and a green jumper.

They had taken him into their arms and promised him that they would take much better care of him from then on.

They kept their promise.

Tearing himself away from his thoughts, Paul leant over, opened the draw of the bedside table and retrieved Ben's credit card.

Last night, Ben had rolled into bed, reached into his pocket and had flung the card at Paul, telling him to go wild with it in IKEA.

Technically, Paul knew that he should probably double check with Ben that it was still ok to use the card now that he was sober, however, he didn't see the harm in buying a few, small, essential purchases before Ben withdrew the privilege.

oOo

Ben called out from the kitchen. "Tea?" Considering how close Paul's bedroom was to the kitchen, Ben's voice was probably several decibels louder than it needed to be. "Move it, the kettles boiled."

Dragging on his trousers, he emerged from the bedroom and tugged on his shirt. "I could get used to you staying over." He smiled, wrapped his arms around Ben and kissed him on the neck. "Have you seen the photos Lauren sent?" He scrolled through until he found the one he liked the best. "I reckon that one, it's got a nice family feel to it."

Ben let out a sigh. "What the Adam's family? We're a bit grumpy aren't we?"

Paul quickly withdrew his arm and took a step back wounded.

"I'm sorry." Ben quickly apologised. "I'm sorry, it's not your family that the problem anyway."

In that moment, Paul came crashing back down to reality. In all the fantasies he'd been having about their new life, Phil hadn't really crossed his mind; in fact, in his ideal little world Phil had faded into a state of non – existence. "You're still worried about telling your Dad?"

"I'm taking him to the hospital before work, I'm gonna tell him then." He voice was not dissimilar to an inmate on death row being led to his execution.

"Maybe he'll be proud?" Paul hoped he sounded reassuring.

"Have you met my Dad?" Ben replied. "It ain't just about managing Cokers, I gotta tell him I'm quitting the Arches an' all. "He slipped on his jacket, ready to go.

Paul reached out, placed a hand on Ben's chest. "What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

For a moment, a bemused look flashed across his face. "Uh, I just had a bowl of that." He gestured to the Corn flakes box that sat on the side. "I was gonna have some toast, but the bread was stale."

Paul took hold of Ben's hand, lead him to the sofa. Ignoring protests that they would both be late, Paul ran into his room, retrieved the brochure that he had left sitting on his bed. He took a place next to Ben on the sofa, pointed at the picture on the first page. "You see this kitchen?"

Ben nodded.

Paul continued. "When you live with me, that kitchen will never have corn flakes or stale bread in it, you hear me?"

Ben raised an eye brow. "What's wrong with corn flakes?"

"You'll never have corn flakes again, because I'm going to make you bacon and eggs every morning." He pointed to the oven pictured in the brochure. "And it won't just be fried eggs: I'm talking, boiled, poached, scrambled… the lot; it will be different every morning."

For the first time that morning, Ben raised a smile. "Oh yeah?"

"You betcha, and of course it won't just be bacon and eggs; it will be grilled tomatoes, fried bread, sausages and hash browns too."

"And Black Pudding and mushrooms?"

"Of course! Forget the breakfast your brother makes at the café; this will be in a league of its own." His voice was becoming ever more enthusiastic. "And forget about instant coffee, we're going to buy a coffee maker and have cappuccinos, mochas and hazelnut flavoured lattes."

Ben relaxed into a laugh. "Well, you got my card, you better buy it then."

"That's not all, on the weekends I'll make pancakes, with strawberry sauce and hundreds of thousands sprinkled on top." He shuffled in closer to Ben.

"Blimey Paul, if you did feed me up like that, I'll be dead by the age of thirty." He let out a hearty laugh.

"Can you see it though?"

Ben took a moment. "Yeah, I can."

"There you go then." Paul said. "That's what you have to keep in mind when you tell him later on. If he kicks off, just picture us at that breakfast bar; living the oh so very modern lifestyle." He shot him a cheeky wink.

With a renewed sense of energy, Ben took a deep breath and stood up. Regardless of what happened today, Ben was going to tell Phil. "Wish me luck."

"I'll walk with you."

The pair were halfway across the room when Pam came rushing out of the bedroom. "Oooh, Paul, can I talk to you about something?"

Missing the urgency in her voice, Paul gave her the biggest smile he could manage. "Nan, we got a flat last night." He picked up the brochure and handed it to her. "That's where Ben was last night. It's all arranged, the owners say we can move in next week after the cleaners have been in."

Pushing thoughts of Jenny to the back of her mind, Pam reached over and took the brochure into her hands. Her eyes widened in awe of the luxury in front of her. "How on earth can you afford all this?"

"Relax, Nan; Ben knows the guy who owns it." He glanced in Ben's direction, smiled. "We won't have to pay anywhere near the amount that is advertised."

Before Pam could reply, Ben spoke. "Paul, I really do need to make a move."

Paul shot his nan an apologetic look. "I'll tell you more about it later, ok?" He made to follow Ben.

"No, Paul, I really do need to talk to you." Pam said.

Paul wanted to walk with Ben and had no intention of pretending otherwise. "Well, can't it wait until I'm on the stall?"

"I'm at the trade fair all day." She countered. Ben and Paul shared a look of frustration. Pam could sense that this was the wrong moment, so she quickly changed tact. "I'll tell you what, why don't I make us a nice lasagne tonight and we can have a chat then?"

A look of worry flashed across Paul's face. "All this home cooking, is anything wrong?"

"No, everything's fine." Pam could tell herself that she wasn't quite convincing, however she prayed that Paul had bought it. She watched as they made to leave. "And Paul…" She added as an afterthought, "Just the three of us, if that's okay?"

He nodded in agreement; Paul found this strange and it was written all over his face too.

oOo

Paul followed Ben out onto the square. He looked back at the flat. "Did she seem okay to you?" His Nan had been acting strangely for a few days now.

"Hmmm?" Ben looked up from his phone, distracted.

"I said did she seem okay to you?"

He shrugged. "Seemed fine to me."

Paul forced a smile. "Yeah, I suppose." He reluctantly agreed. "Nervous about telling your Dad?"

"I'll just get him in the car and tell him straight I guess." Ben hoped he sounded more confident than what he felt.

"It'll be fine." He leant over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Ben took a step backwards, turned away from the attempt of affection. "Listen, I ain't got time for this, I gotta get to my Dad's, don't I?" He reached out a hand and clapped him on the back, in the same friendly way he would if he was saying goodbye to Jay.

Paul bit his tongue; it was infuriating but not worth the hassle of calling him out on it. "Right, yes." He cleared his throat. "Yes, you go."

With a nod of the head, Ben turned on heel. "See ya, then."

Paul lingered for a few moments, watching until Ben was around the corner and out of sight. He had barely taken two steps when he found his arm taken hold of, frightening the life out of him. He gasped in surprise, turned to see who had hold of him. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

It was Belinda.

"I didn't!" She replied. "You were too busy watching lover boy to notice."

Embarrassed, Paul felt his cheeks blush. "I wasn't watching, I was uh just…" Unable to defend himself, he trailed off and forced a smile. "Anyway, how can I help you?"

"Follow me." She gestured across the square.

"Belinda I… I've got to get on the stall."

"Your grandmother owns it; she's not exactly going to fire you, is she?"

Paul shook his head. "It's not that, the market inspectors don't take kindly to people opening their stalls later than the allotted times."

"Oh, sod the market traders." Not taking no for an answer, she grabbed him by the hand and gave a forceful tug. "Five minutes, that's all I'm asking."

Within minutes, Paul found himself back in the place where he used to work. Speechless, he took a few seconds to let it all sink in; the décor was so far removed from Blades, it was hard to believe that it was the same place. "Wow, it's different, I give you that."

"Fabulous is the word you are looking for." She flopped down in a chair and swivelled around a few times. "It's fabulous and its mine, all mine."

"Yes…I know." He raised an eyebrow. "You've been walking around the square doing your research for days now."

Belinda got to her feet, pulled up another chair and gestured for him to sit down. "Yes, the people around here have not experienced much as it goes." As he sat down, she moved from the side of him to behind him. "Judging by the state of some of their nails, I don't know why it was a surprise."

"Ummm, okay…"

"Take your jacket off."

"What, no I…"

"Take you jacket off." This time, her voice was much more forceful.

Not wanting to argue with the highly strung woman, he did as she asked. "What's this all about anyway? I told you when you were talking to me and Nan yesterday, I have had a pedicure and I wouldn't have one again, because I hate people touching my feet."

Belinda placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, began massaging them. "That's not why you're here." She moved her fingers around his upper back and up towards his neck. "The research may not have given me much to go on, but it did reveal one thing…" She paused, continued the massage until she felt the tension in his shoulders dissolve.

Paul relaxed further into the chair. "You're not coming on to me, are you?" He felt her thumbs against his spine, moving in a circular motion. "I really gotta get back to the…" Oh what the hell, this felt too good; he allowed his eyes to close, relishing the feeling.

Belinda smirked; this was far too easy. She moved away from the spine, up to the base of his neck. Extending her thumb, she rubbed up and down, applying light pressure as she did so. "How's that?" Sensing she was onto a good thing, she kept up this motion for a couple more minutes longer than what she had originally planned.

"Mmmm, good." All worries of being late to the stall had completely evaporated.

Belinda paused, picked up a small bottle of coconut oil, the smell flooding her nostrils within seconds of removing the cap. "You're on a beach, the sun is shining and topless butlers are serving you Pina Coladas." She took another second, his breathing was calm and steady. Pretty soon, he'd agree to anything.

"This is nice." His tone was lazy, almost as if he'd just awoken from a deep sleep.

"No need to talk." This time, Belinda kept her tone hushed. She picked up the stereo remote and pretty soon, sounds of the ocean flooded the salon. "There you go; can you see it Paul?"

So relaxed, he barely managed a nod.

Reaching over, she took hold of the band in his hair and gently untangled it from the mass of curls, allowing the hair to droop forwards. Slowly, she navigated her way through until her finger tips reached the scalp, something she suspected had been a long time neglected. "The sun is beating down on your face." She continued massaging the scalp, applying more coconut oil as she did so.

"Wow." Practically falling asleep, his voice was barely audible.

Belinda was triumphant, there were a few more tricks up her sleeve and once she was done, she was 100% certain that he would be at her beck and call. "Oh look, here comes your man, emerging from the sea. His hair is dripping wet and there's a surfboard under his arm." She looked down, a small, dopey smile had begun to grace his lips.

"What else is he doing?" He was now fully emerged in the scenario Belinda had created; his body may have been in Walford, but in his mind, he was firmly in paradise.

"He's running across the beach, kicking up the sand as he goes." She paused. "Think Baywatch."

"Hmmm." He was now passed the point of stringing a sentence together.

"Imagine him in front of you, the surf board drops to the ground and he climbs onto the deck chair with you." Belinda removed her hands from his head, dropping them down to his arms. She felt around, settling once she found the part with the most muscle, then she set to work on them. "Imagine his thighs against your own, he smells of cocoa butter and he's rubbing those strong mechanic hands up and down those biceps of yours."

Paul felt his heart rate increase. Before his mind had been on a million different things, from the flat, to the business, to ordering more carnations for the stall; not any more, there was one thing on his mind and one thing only. He couldn't banish the images in his mind and neither did he want to. "Keep going." His tone was that of a starving man begging for food.

Belinda smiled, picked up the coconut oil and rubbed it into his chest. "Imagine him, his hands move from your arms to your chest, rubbing suntan lotion all over."

He moved his hands to the side of the chair and gripped. A feeling of excitement washed over him, almost as if he was riding too fast downhill on a scooter; it wasn't a good idea but the rush he got was undeniable.

Belinda looked down in the direction of his trouser area, her eyes widened in surprise; she knew she was good, but she didn't think she would quite have that affect. This was her moment. She tilted the chair into the upright position and snapped her fingers in his face. "Right, let's get down to business."

Paul suddenly snapped back to reality. "Oh my…" Embarrassed, he scrambled for his coat and placed it over his lap.

She smirked. "I remember that feeling. I had this boyfriend when I was about your age, it didn't matter where I was or who I was with, just the mention of his name would be enough to make me…"

Paul raised his hand, signalled for her to stop. "Right okay, I get the message." He paused a moment. "And what do you mean let's get down to business?"

"Right… I'm just going to come out and say it." She proceeded. "I want you to work here as my stylist. The research I did may not have been much use in finding out what beauty treatments Walford needed, but I did hear rave reviews about you."

"You did?"

Belinda nodded. "Dean Wickes may have cast a dark shadow over that place, but people around here had plenty of good things to say about you." She continued onwards. "Mrs Jones said you made her look ten years younger and Linda Carter said that you transformed her daughter when she was a bridesmaid."

"What can I say? I know my way around a pair of GHD's." He paused. "I'm also the master of small talk and make one hell of a cup of coffee."

"Then what do you say?"

Paul looked around the shop. He really could see himself working there. He missed the customers and he missed the challenge of turning lifeless hair into art. He looked at the shelves, brimming with high end shampoos – they must have cost a fortune. "It would be amazing; it really would be." Already he was making mental notes of what he would do. He pointed to the table in the waiting area. "You should really think about adding a few glossy magazines and a bowel of sweets; the customers go mad for stuff like that."

"Oh yeah? You mean like Cosmopolitan and Grazia?"

He wrapped the jacket tightly around his waist, making sure it was secure. "That's exactly what I mean." He was on his feet now. He walked over to the shampoo stock that had caught his eye earlier, picked up a bottle off the shelf. "You should order a few extra bottles of these each month, display them next to the till and then sell them on for double what you paid originally."

"See, you know what brings the money in." She walked over to him. "When do you want to start?"

At that, Paul's smile suddenly slipped. He had become so wrapped up in the idea of working in a salon again that he had failed to think practically. "I really want to."

Belinda could sense where this was going. "There's a but, isn't there?"

He merely nodded.

"I don't see why not." Belinda shot back. "You're twenty years old, what would a boy of that age get out of working on some flower stall? It's exciting here, you'll be surrounded by people your own age, doing something that you actually care about."

He sat down again. "It's not the flower stall, Belinda."

"Then what is it?" She pulled out the seat opposite him. "I thought that a young lad like you would jump at an opportunity like this."

"The funny thing is, if you had come to me a week ago, I would've done." He elaborated further. "You see, my Nan and Granddad, they're moving away and me and Ben, we're going to run the business together, we've got a flat and everything."

"That would be romantic if it wasn't for the fact you're working with dead people." She shuddered. "At least my customers have a pulse and can make decent conversation."

He sighed. "I know and I appreciate the offer, but taking over the business and running it with Ben, it really means something."

At this, her face softened. "Well, all I can do is wish you luck I suppose." She paused. "Would you like to give feedback on the massage?"

Paul shook his head. "Let's just keep that between us."

She pointed to where the jacket was tied around his waist. "It gone down yet?"

His cheeks flushed a bright scarlet. "Okay, ok, I'll sign your stupid feedback sheet." He picked up a pen and hurriedly wrote a few sentences before passing it back to Belinda. "Happy now?"

She scanned the page. "It doesn't really convey just how much you enjoyed it, but it'll do."

"Now, I really have got to get to the stall." Awkwardly, he picked up the hair band that had been discarded on the floor, checked his appearance in the mirror and slipped out the door.

Paul checked his watch; he was indeed late.

Paul sighed. There was no way he could stand on the stall in his current condition. "Right; home, cold shower and I'll open up in the afternoon."

He had a feeling that today was going to be an eventful one.


	2. Chapter 2

Paul arrived at the stall just after lunch time to find Shrimpy smirking. "Don't you start."

Shrimpy let out a laugh. "What time do you call this?"

Paul bent down and placed a bucket of roses on the table. "I had stuff to take care of." He lied. "You know how it is."

"I wish I did, Paul." He made a point of tapping his watch. "I'm here every day, seven o clock on the dot. Your Nan know about this skiving?"

A look of guilt flashed across his face. "I'll just tell her we had a slow day."

"There's slow and then there's this, mate." Shrimpy was loving every minute. "She didn't fall off a Christmas tree."

Paul sighed. "I don't know, maybe there'll be an end of the day rush?"

Zee from the other stall, who had been listening in, added his input. "Of course, Walford will become so desperate for a bunch of tulips, come five o clock, they will storm your stall in their thousands."

"He probably won't make it out alive." Shrimpy said.

"There'll be nothing we can do. They'll savage him death, leaving behind nothing more than a hair band, a pool of blood and a pair of shredded skinny jeans."

"it'll be national news, mate." A cheeky glint flashed in Zee's eyes. "Local Walford boy beaten to death by a bunch of Lilies."

"I can just see the autopsy now."

"His throat would be slashed by the thorns of the roses."

"A daffodil would be found shoved down his throat." Shrimpy added.

"Suffocated by the cellophane used to wrap the flowers up."

"Don't forget about the ribbon." Shrimpy winked in Paul's direction. "Knowing how violent the people around here are, no doubt they would take the opportunity to strangle him with it."

"Denny Mitchell would no doubt begin the attack; using a stem of a daisy, he would sharpen the end of it like they do in those prison dramas and inflict multiple stab wounds." He pointed towards the Launderette. "And then Dot would come in at the end; hit him over the head with one of the buckets, ultimately dealing the fatal blow."

"Ha yeah." Shrimpy let out a loud unrestrained laugh. "Police say attacks of these kinds are more common than you may think."

"Oh course, haven't you heard? They say it's the pollen that does it, they get one whiff it and they just go crazy."

"I hear that every five seconds a person in the East- End is killed by this phenomenon."

"Quite frankly, I'm surprised it's not more." Zee said

Paul held up his hand, signalled them to stop. "Right, I get it, the takings are going to be low and Nan's going to go mad."

Zee snorted. "She looks all sweetness and light, but she can be quite scary your nan."

Once more, Shrimpy spoke up. "I wouldn't want to meet her down a dark alley."

"I hear her teeth are sharper than a lion's."

Paul tied the money bag around his waist. "You two are hilarious." His tone was sarcastic. "You should seriously think about forming some sort of comedy double act."

Zee nodded. "I'm on at Wembley every night, mate." He said. "Shrimpy is my support act."

"Uh no..." Shrimpy protested. "I think you'll find he's mine.

Zee rolled his eyes, glanced over at Paul. "He's really just an embarrassment. He' not really my support act, he's one of my jokes - the biggest joke actually."

At this, Paul couldn't help but laugh. "Play nicely, ladies."

"I was going to pay for the taxi home tonight." Shrimpy said. "But after that, you can walk home, mate."

"Who says anything about going home? "Zee winked. "I pull every time."

"He uses the term pull very loosely." Shrimpy elaborated further. "He counts being walked into as being groped."

"Look who's talking, the only action Shrimpy has is the donner kebab he has at the end of the night."

"I'm so glad I'm not single anymore." Paul smiled. "There's nothing worse than the lights going on in the club and finding out the guy I'd been snogging all night has yellow teeth."

"Ah yes." Zee agreed. "Even worse, when you spent the whole night thinking that the guy you were snogging all night was a woman." He shuddered. "Not gonna lie, I was convinced."

Shrimpy burst out laughing. "Mate, it was obvious to anyone."

Zee placed his hands on his hips. "Well, excuse me for assuming that if a person has boobs, long hair and is wearing a dress that they are a woman."

"It's as if you've never seen someone in drag before." Paul laughed.

"His voice was so high pitched though."

"You are not going to save face on this one, Zee." Shrimpy said. "So, I wouldn't even try."

"Do you guys go out often then?" Paul asked. He had never actually realised that the pair had been friends outside of work.

Zee nodded. "Come with us, tonight. We're going to Soho."

"Yes, do." Shrimpy reached into his pocket, pulled out a leaflet and handed it over. "My mate is a DJ in one of the clubs, can get us in for free. We go around the back, so we don't have to queue or anything."

Paul took the leaflet in his hands. "I know this place; it's not been open all that long."

"It's kinda shit, but it's a cheap night out." Zee said.

Shrimpy put on his best look of mock offense. "It is not shit." He said. "The music there is banging."

"You see my point?" Zee said to Paul. "The type of people that go there, are the type of people who use the word banging."

Paul reread the flyer, it had been a while since he had been on a proper night out. "I really would go, but my Nan, she says she's making food tonight; got something she wants to talk about."

Shrimpy shrugged. "That's no problem, we don't usually go out until ten or eleven." He said. "We usually go back to Zee's after work, start the drinking early, but you could always skip that part and meet us later."

Paul thought for a moment, working it out. "I suppose I could." He nodded, enthusiastically. "If I can make it, I'll give you a text."

"Awesome." With a nod, Zee turned back to his stall.

Shrimpy did the same.

Just as Paul was about to turn back, Louise walked by. "Aren't you meant to be at school?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes and scowled in a way that was oh so similar to her brother's. "I'm on lunch break and what's it to you anyway?"

He held up his hands. "Alright, I was only asking."

"Ben's in a right mood." She said.

"He's not the only one." He muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

She gestured to the house. "He's over there now, getting his knickers in a right twist."

"That sounds about right."

"I'm being serious, I spoke to him earlier and he practically bit my head off." Louise readjusted the strap on her school bag. "That boy needs some serious anger management, like now."

Paul sighed. "Do you know if he's spoken to your Dad yet?"

"What? about you and him running your grandparent's place?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "He told you?"

"I'm not stupid, what else was I gonna think when I saw the pair of you dressed in those grim suits the other day." She said. "And if you ask me, I think it's dead creepy."

"I didn't ask you."

"Also have you thought about how it's going to look?"

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "People are happy to have their dead loved ones looked after by a sweet old man and his wife, but are they really going to be as keen when it's their grandson and his murdering boyfriend?"

Paul shuddered; he didn't like to spend too long thinking about Ben's past crimes. "That was a mistake. He was young."

"He still killed her though." She stated. "Would you want to be embalmed by a murderer when your time was up?"

He diverted his eyes to the ground, avoided her gaze. "Why would you even say that?"

"Everybody else is thinking it." Louise said. "I'm not bothered, but people around here have long memories."

Paul shifted his weight from one foot to the other, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "It's in the past, Louise."

She nodded and for a moment, he could've sworn a look of remorse had flashed across her face. "I don't mean any harm by it. The people around here are funny, that's all."

Pushing the images in his mind away, he managed a smile. "I know you didn't mean any harm." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's just not something we've talked about… like ever."

Despite what people thought, Louise really did know when the time was right to shut up. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Don't worry about it." Paul was desperate to remain composed. "Honestly, it's... fine."

"You sure?" She looked doubtful.

"Yes of course." For a moment, he hesitated. "You just caught me off guard, bringing it up like that, that's all."

You're not going to tell him, are you?" Her tone had gone from cocky to concerned. "He'll go mad if he knew I'd brought it up behind his back."

Paul sighed, stuck his hands in his pocket so she wouldn't see that they were shaking. "I won't bring it up, you can relax." He removed a hand from his pocket, pulled out a ten pound note and passed it over. "Go to Mcklunkies or something and forget we ever had this conversation."

She looked at it, touched. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really, really."

Placing the money in her pocket, she made to turn away but paused before she did. "Ben's lucky to have you." She said. "Next time I see him; I'll make sure he knows that."

"Good luck with that." He hoped his voice sounded cheerful. "He never listens."

Without another word, she gave him another apologetic look before heading off to leave.

In a second, Shrimpy was by his side. He placed a hand on his shoulder, pulled up a stool and gently pushed him down into it. "Paul, just sit there a moment." He said. "Listen, I heard what she said, but it's not as if he's still capable of that. I knew him back then and he's nothing like the piece of work he used to be."

Paul forced himself to look the other man in the eyes. "He's actually killed someone." He kept his voice low. "You should've seen her body Shrimpy, the side of her head had caved in."

Shrimpy looked over in the direction of the funeral parlour. "Are you telling me that…?" He trailed off, disbelief written across his face.

Paul nodded. "We took care of her funeral. I helped Grandad get her ready." He took two deep breaths, trying to steady himself. "It took us ages to get her sorted, we had to style her hair in a way that covered the gash, but it still didn't quite hide it."

Shrimpy was lost for words. "Oh, I…"

Paul continued. "The man she was going to marry came in." He continued. "He was a great big strapping man, proper macho."

"Andrew." Shrimpy said. "He's Dot's nephew."

"You should've heard the way he cried." Paul felt like he was going to be sick. "Nan made him tea and Grandad worked his way through the top ten list of condolences, but there was nothing they could say to help him, not really."

He nodded. "It was a terrible time." There was a moment of silence, as Shrimpy worked out what he was going to say next. "But, you're only feeling like this because that little cow threw it in your face; you know that, right? It's not as if this was news to you."

At this, Paul nodded. "You're right." He took a few more steadying breaths. "Of course you are."

Shrimpy helped him to his feet. "We all have things that are a sore subject for us; you're only like this because you didn't expect to be reminded in such a way." He shook his head, disapprovingly. "My younger sister was a nightmare at that age; it's like teenage girls are programmed to be as evil as possible."

Paul knew Shrimpy was talking sense. "It doesn't change things" He gripped the side of the stall for support. "I love him despite what he's done, it's just..."

"Just...?"

"I think I need a few moments."

"I get that." He gave a knowing nod. "Most people would need the rest of their lives to get their head around something like that; you take as many moments as you need, mate."

"Thanks, Shrimpy."

"Shrimpy reached into his pocket, produced his wallet. "I'll tell you what, you stay here and get yourself together and I'll head over to the caf." He smiled. "What you having?"

Paul waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no... don't worry about me."

"You're looking peaky; a bit of sugar will see you right." His tone was firm and insistent. "You either tell me what you want, or leave it to my judgement, which I must admit isn't great."

"Okay." Paul relaxed into a nervous laugh. "How about a hot chocolate and a corn flake cake?"

Shrimpy put on his best posh voice. "Good choice, sir."

Zee looked up from his stall. "I'll have a coffee and an iced bun - two sugars and not a lot of milk, you know how I like it."

"Up yours, Zee." He presented him his middle finger. "You diss my favourite club, you forgo your afternoon coffee."

Zee waited until Shrimpy was across the market and out of sight before he spoke. "He don't mean it." He said to Paul. "You'll see, he's been threatening not to buy me something for months now, but he always come back, tail between his legs with my coffee in his hand."

When Shrimpy returned ten minutes later, Zee was proved right; up until that moment, Paul didn't realise it was physically possible for one person to look so smug.

oOo

Les Coker drummed his fingers on the table and glanced around the quiet pub. There was something about this place that made him terribly uncomfortable. Usually, his place of choice would always have been the Queen Vic, however the current circumstances demanded discretion. Therefore, he had found himself over the other side of London where he hoped no one would recognise him.

The door swung open.

He glanced his watch.

She was exactly on time.

Les gestured to the seat opposite him. "Jenny." He said. "Please, sit down."

Doing as asked, Jenny pulled up a chair and sank down into it. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you." Her voice was hoarse, sounding like she had a sore throat.

He gestured to the drink on the table, inched it closer to her. "Double Malibu and Coke?"

At this, her tense features relaxed into a smile. "That was my favourite drink when I was nineteen." She lifted the glass, took a sip. "You remembered?"

Slowly, he nodded. "If it's not to your taste anymore, I could always get you something else." Les gestured to the bar. "I noticed at the bar they have quite a wide selection of wine; if you were partial, I could always buy you a glass?"

"No." She said, almost too quickly. "This is… This is perfect."

There was a pause.

She looked down at her glass and took a long sip, noting how he had remembered that she never had ice.

After a few more seconds of silence, Les moved the conversation along. "Jenny…" There was a hint of awkwardness in his voice. "About the other day, me and Pam, we're going to put it right."

She blinked furiously; she wasn't going to cry, not in front of Les anyway. It had been a few days since her son had shouted in her face and every word her said whizzed around in her mind at a million miles an hour. "How can you? You heard him, he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

Jenny narrowed her eyes. "You were there; you heard what he said." Raising her glass, she drank until it was half empty.

Hesitantly, he placed a hand on top of hers. "Jenny… Jenny, my dear girl. It's complicated, but you have to believe me that when he said he knew who you were, he was way off the mark." He watched as she processed what he said. "There is some nasty individual who is out to make life very difficult for myself and Pam."

"What do you mean? Why would someone do that?"

Ignoring her question, he proceeded onwards. "And Paul… when he saw you, he assumed that you were them."

Jenny took a deep inhale through her nose, looked down at the hand that covered her own; They were a stark contrast to the ones she remembered from all those years ago. She placed her remaining hand on top of his. How it pained her to see him looking so unwell. "He… had me confused with someone else?"

Les merely nodded.

"But who?" Jenny stumbled over her words and repeated her previous question. "Who is doing this to you, Les?"

"I don't wish to concern you with it." His voice was firm, yet somehow strangely gentle at the same time.

With one final gulp, she finished her drink. "You always were one for the whole stiff upper lip… keep calm, carry on, but never worry about yourself or think about your own needs. "She paused, looked him full in the eyes.

Les diverted his gaze to the ground, slowly inched his hand free. "The only person I can think about now is Paul." He said. "All this, it's probably going to open up all sorts, but if you must insist on being part of his life, I'm going to be there to make sure it's easy as possible for him."

"None of this is easy, Les." She placed extra emphasis on the way she pronounced his name. "Seeing you again, it's been…" Trailing off, Jenny reached into her bag, produced a packet of cigarettes. "Do you want one?"

He placed a hand on his chest, patted it. "It wouldn't be wise."

"Oh yes… of course." Embarrassed, she quickly put them pack in her bag.

"You never did give up then?"

"No, did you?"

"Uh yes." Les nodded. "Shortly after you left actually. Pam had just moved back in with me and what with having a small baby in the house, she felt it was best that I put that particular habit to bed." He shrugged his shoulders. "She was right."

"That's Pam for you, she always has to be right, doesn't she?" Her tone was bitter in a way that didn't suit her. "The Les Coker I remember would never have backed down that easily."

He sighed. "Oh Jenny, that's the thing, you didn't know me; not really."

"I know that you thought you couldn't live without her, but you were much stronger than what you ever could have given yourself credit for." She said. "You deserved and still do deserve much better."

He shook his head. "Our marriage wasn't great Jenny; I won't pretend that it was, but it wasn't fair of me." He said. "You were nineteen years old, I should never have discussed our problems with you. You were so young."

"I was old enough." She gritted her teeth, pointed an accusing finger. "Don't you dare start acting like I was a naïve child."

Realising his mistake, Les quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry, of course I would never say that. You were a wonderful young woman, wise beyond your years." He paused, a reflective look in his eyes. "Completely different to how Laurie was at that age."

At the mention of his name, she flinched. "I was sorry to hear that…" She stopped. Jenny was unable to bring herself to say the words. "I hate the thought of you going through that, I know that Laurie was your world."

Les gave a knowing nod; he understood, of course he did. "I know he treated you badly. I was never blind to his faults in the same way Pam was, but you must know that he did eventually grow up; he made a fine undertaker once he got into it. "

She shrugged. "I don't care if he flew to the moon."

Les knew better than try to convince her otherwise. "I won't try and justify the way he and Pam behaved. In many ways they had a right to be angry, of course they did, but excluding you from Paul's life, it was wrong."

For a moment, a look anger dominated her features. "Don't pretend you were innocent Les! You were so desperate to save your marriage; you would've agreed to anything if it meant that Pam came home to you."

Les couldn't deny this and neither did he want to. "I loved her too much to Let her go." He replied. "It doesn't mean that I won't always be deeply ashamed of my actions. Over the years, I have questioned why I didn't put my foot down and speak out, but like you said, I was desperate."

She took a moment for thought, holding off on her reply for longer than what felt comfortable. "The most pathetic thing about this is that I would forgive you." Jenny looked down at her shoes, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't think I have ever really been able to blame you in the first place."

Les swallowed back the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. "I want to make this right for you, Jenny." He reached over, placed a hand on her shoulder. "There may be consequences for me and Pam, but Paul deserves to know how much you loved him."

She forced a smile, tears forming but not yet falling from her eyes. For the first time, she took a proper look at him, taking the time to take in all his features and appreciate how he had changed. "You don't look anything like I imagined you would. In my mind, you were forever fifty years old."

Les reached up, ran his hand over his head. "I do miss my hair."

"Paul got that off you." She smiled. "How can someone with hair like that ever lose it?'"

Maybe it was for the best, when I was young, we didn't exactly have the same products available to tame it like he has." He smiled. "That's old age for you I suppose. I miss the days where my body was toned and my skin was smooth, but it comes to us all in the end."

She sighed. "You were always worth so much more than that." She said. "Whilst Laurie would spend hours a day looking at himself in the mirror, you would be throwing yourself into the business; looking after your customers as if they were your own family."

Les felt his cheeks blush. "I always did try to tell him that there were more important things in life."

"You're always you, Les."

"Jenny... stop." He voice was weak. "We shouldn't be having this conversation.

"I never did stop thinking about you." She admitted. "You were the first man to be that kind to me. Every time Laurie would walk out on me, there you would be with that smile of yours and a mug of hot chocolate."

"Jenny, I cared about you and of course I was flattered, but..."Unsure of what to say, he trailed off.

"It was just a crush?" She finished for him. "That's what you said at the time. You sat me down and said that I was too young to know what I wanted. You were still married to Pam, despite the fact that she had left you."

"It was my fault; I know that now." He admitted, focusing on a stain that marked the carpet. "I was useless without Pam. I had allowed her to drift away and I was pathetically lonely." He continued. "I saw the way you looked at me; I could tell how your feelings were changing, but like the stupid fool I was, I suppose I enjoyed the attention off a younger woman."

"It always felt like more than a crush."

"Yes... and for that I'm sorry." He said. "I should've put a stop to it before it got that far, but for reasons that were self-centred, I let it continue until it got out of hand. You were nineteen for heaven's sake, I should have done the right thing: let you down gently and encouraged you to move on."

His words stung like an angry wasp. "I only stayed with Laurie as long as I did because of you." She closed her eyes, willing herself not to shed the tears that were threatening to surface. "I was always hoping, Les."

"And I'm truly sorry." He said. "I did care about you. The nights we used to sit out in the garden smoking cigarettes and talking for hours after putting Laurie to bed drunk... well, they got me through a tough time; Pam had gone and you gave me the support that Laurie never would.

"It was pathetic really." She took a deep breath. "What nineteen-year-old in their right mind would feel that strongly about their boyfriend's father? It's like an episode or Jeremy Kyle show; I could probably make £200 if I sold the story to Take a Break."

"You couldn't help how you felt, jenny."

"You know, I used to buy Laurie shots all night." She confessed. "I would spend all my wages from the job I had at the café on alcohol for him; just so he would pass out drunk when I took him home and I could have some time alone with you."

Les rolled his eyes. "I don't think you can be held responsible for that, I remember what my boy was like and he would not have needed any persuasion." He paused, took a minute to think. "You do realise that we have to put this behind us now? Me and Pam, we sorted out all our differences."

She smirked. "C'mon Les. I'm forty years old, you don't honestly think I'm still pining for you?" Her tone was triumphant. "I'm a different person; Pam can't bully me and however Laurie treated me, I have worked hard to overcome it."

"Really?"

"Yes." She was insistent. "Really. Make no mistake, I'm here for my son."

He smiled. "Well that's... good." Les visibly relaxed. "You've got to understand why I was wary; I just can't risk my relationship with Pam."

Jenny sat up in her seat. "Whatever comes out Les, you do realise that you may have some tough questions to answer." She said. "If Paul is to know why he's been lied to, you can't expect him to just accept it and move on."

Les sighed, that thought had indeed crossed his mind. "Yes, of course." He agreed. "I suppose, in the end, all this was inevitable."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "What's going to happen next?"

"Me and Pam... we need time." He replied. "Can you give us that? Over the next day or two, we'll sit him down, explain to him who you are."

"And then I'll be able to see him?"

"And then you'll be able to see him." Les confirmed.

oOo

Paul scowled at his grandfather, who was stood to the side of him. "I'm not a kid, you don't need to stand over me."

Les continued to count the money in the bag. "Evidently I do." He sighed, passed it over. "This is not the amount of money you would expect from a full day's work."

"It's..." Paul looked over his grandfather's shoulder; Zee was laughing at his misfortune.

"It's what, Paul?" He said. "Don't lie to me, just tell me the truth."

Paul looked down at the ground; his Grandfather could be really judgemental when he wanted to be. "I may have taken the morning off."

Les sighed. "Oh Paul, you do understand that in business, you can't just shape your day to suit yourself?" He continued. "Imagine if I was to do that. Nothing would ever get done."

"The difference being you've got lots of staff." Paul argued back. "It's just me and Nan, here. It's hard."

Les crossed his arms. "Then maybe we need to have a chat about you taking over the business." He said. "Because if you can't hack working on a flower stall, I don't imagine how you'd fare as an undertaker."

Paul turned away from him. "Just leave me alone." He said. "If I'm not good enough, then maybe it's for the best."

Suddenly guilty, Les reached out. "No, I wasn't fair, just ignore me."

"How can I ignore that?"

"Keep your voice down." Les warned.

Paul sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump. "I'm sorry, it's just been one of those days."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"No." He looked down at his shoes. "It's stupid. Just forget I even said anything."

"You know I can't do that, Paul." His eyes were filled with concern. "Not having second thoughts, are you?"

He merely shook his head.

"You're not a stroppy teenager Paul, this whole silent treatment isn't going to get you far." He placed his hand under Paul's chin, lifted it to make eye contact. "Whatever it is, I can help, but I can only help if you tell me what it is."

Paul shuffled in closer to his Granddad, lowered his voice to a whisper. "Louise was here earlier" He said. "She started talking about Ben's... past."

Les slowly nodded, understanding. "Ah yes." He mumbled. "The young woman I assume? That was a terrible thing, that was."

Irritation was clear in his voice. "Is that all you can say? I was hoping for a bit more than that."

Les raised an eyebrow. "Well, the way I see it is, there's going to be things in life you find out about people you love."

"It's not as if I've just found out, I've always known, Grandad."

Les thought back to earlier, Jenny's words echoing back in his mind. "And there'll be some you like, some you don't like and things you absolutely hate."

Paul nodded, encouraging him to continue

He placed a hand on Paul's shoulder. "But at the end of the day, we love these people and I always encourage you to remember that; don't lose sight of it when you make some kind of unwelcome discovery, because more often than not, there will be a way back." Les hoped he could convince himself of as well as Paul.

"I know... It's just that."

"Are you telling me that you've stopped loving Ben?" He asked. "You knew about it before, so do you mean to tell me that one conversation with his sister is enough to change how you feel?"

"Absolutely, not! " He replied, outraged.

"You keep that in mind then." He smiled. "Because I'm warning you now, Coker and Sons has been serving the community for 100 years and it would break my heart if it was to fail because you and Ben took it on knowing that your heart wasn't in it."

"I can promise you that, Grandad; we won't let you down."

"You never could, son." He pointed to Paul's pocket. "You've been sitting on this all day. What I suggest you do now is get out your phone and talk to Ben. Once you see him again, you'll feel much better."

Doing as he said, Paul produced his phone. "What do I even say? I don't want him knowing that I've been thinking about this."

"Then don't tell him." Les advised. "What ever happened to doing things just because? I text your Nan at least three times a day, just to tell her how my day is going. It reminds her that even though I may be busy, there is still time in my day for her."

For the first time that afternoon, a genuine smile graced his lips. "Well, I did have an interesting morning; he may be interested to know about that." He unlocked his phone. "Maybe even a little bit jealous."

"Care to share with your granddad?"

Paul shook his head. "No... because that would be weird." He cringed. "Trust me, there are just some things that aren't meant to be shared with your grandparents."

"Say no more." He produced his wallet, pulled out a handful of £20 notes and stuffed them into Paul's money bag. "We don't need to tell your Nan about your morning off."

Paul nervously chewed his bottom lip. "She'll never buy it; the amount of stock doesn't match the supposed takings."

Les reached under the stall and produced a bin liner. "Well, that's easily solved." He picked up an armful or flowers and stuffed them in the bag. "There, what a brilliant day you've had. I'll just dispose of this in the nearest skip and we'll say no more about it."

Paul placed a hand over his mouth, supressed a laugh. "Granddad, you can't do that."

"Looks like I already I have." He winked. "I'll keep quiet about your skiving if you keep quiet about my flower disposal."

"Deal." He agreed. "This heart attack has made you a bit rebellious."

He shook his head. "I'm only doing this once, Paul." He warned. "Don't go getting ideas; when I'm in Worthing, they'll be no one around to get you out it." Not waiting for a reply, he moved away, walked across the market and tossed the bag.

oOo

"Oi, Shrimpy." Zee shouted over to where his friend was stood. "How many Jagerbombs do you think Paul will be able to sink tonight?"

Paul looked over, but continued to pack up the stock. "I never said I could definitely come."

Shrimpy did his best chicken impression. "Ah, I see what this is." He smirked. "You see, me and Zee have quite the reputation for our champion drinking skills…"

"And you're worried that you won't be able to keep up." Zee continued.

"But that's okay." Shrimpy said. "We understand that you as a mere mortal don't have a hope of ever coming close to our level…"

"So we shall go easy on you." Zee finished.

Paul rolled his eyes, amused. "It's like watching an episode of the Chuckle Brothers." Knocking over a bucket of water, he cursed, moved his foot away from the puddle. "Seriously guys, can we just pack up now?"

Shrimpy reached up, began placing clothes into a cardboard box. "The pressure's getting to him." He winked in Zee's direction. "Maybe we should keep him on Lemonade all night? We don't wanna be carrying him to A and E."

Before anything more could be said, Ben suddenly came into view; walking past Shrimpy and making a B- line for Paul.

Despite the thoughts that had consumed him earlier, the familiar feeling of happiness that he always got, flooded over him. "Oh, hey." Paul gave him his best smile. "How'd it go with your Dad?"

His question went answered, as Ben raised his hands to his face and pulled him to a kiss.

For a moment he was stunned, but soon he relaxed rubbing his hands up and down his back.

It was amazing: passionate, loving and exciting.

Of course, Shrimpy and Zee couldn't resist wolf whistling and shouting oi, oi, however, Paul chose to ignore it. After all, it wasn't as if people were queuing up to kiss them like that.

Taking a step back, the pair took a moment to catch their breath.

Paul was the first to speak. "Wow, is that because of what I said in my text?" If the reaction off Ben was this good, Paul would have consider letting Belinda give him a good rub down more often. "I bet she'd be able to do us both next time."

If Ben thought this was strange, he decided not to question it. "I've not even read that yet. I just wanted you to know that I love you." He reached out placed a hand on Paul's chest. "I couldn't be more thrilled that we're doing this together."

Speechless, Paul placed Ben's hand against his cheek.

With that Ben, started to lead him away. "C'mon, telling my Dad can wait, we've got somewhere we need to be."

Doing as told, Paul turned back, made eye contact with Zee. "Zee, could you pack up the rest of the stuff?"

"Thanks, Zee." Ben called out, wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulder and quickly ushered him away before Zee could protest.

"I honestly can't believe that just happened." Paul couldn't hide his grin and neither did he want to.

"Trust me, it about to get a lot better." Ben winked. "I've been working nonstop on this since lunch time."

"What is it?"

Ben shook his head. "You've got to see it yourself." Removing his arm from around Paul's shoulders, he took hold of his hand and guided him to where they were headed.


	3. Chapter 3

Paul stood outside the polished wooden door to his new home, keys in hand. "Seriously? They're letting us move in, already?"

Ben nodded. "Well… It took a bit of persuasion." He replied. "They weren't happy for us to go in without the cleaners giving it the once over, but I've been on me hands and knees scrubbing the place myself."

Paul raised a cryptic eyebrow. "You? You're actually telling me that you put on a pair of marigolds and picked up a duster." He placed a hand on Ben's forehead. "Kissing in public and now this, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

For a moment, a look of embarrassment flashed across his face, cheeks flushing a bright scarlet. "Louise talked some sense into me." His voice was low, almost too ashamed to admit it. "Made me realise what an idiot I've been."

Louise.

If only he knew what she had been saying earlier.

Paul forced a smile. "Looks like you two might finally be getting on."

"Me and her?" He wrinkled his nose. "She ain't ever coming around here, but I suppose she's alright, when she behaves herself."

"What, so you're just never going to invite her over?"

Defiant, he shook his head. "You're joking, right? There'll be nail varnish on the carpet and those bleeding bobby pins will be all over the place." He paused. "No, I ain't having it, that girl is blacklisted; I better get some flyers printed so people know not to let her in at the main door."

Paul studied his face, looking for any indication that he might be joking – He found none. "Wow… that some real brotherly love, right there." He couldn't help but smile. "Anyone else on that list?"

A small smirk. "Roxy ain't coming in either; whenever she walks into a room, that perfume she wears lingers in the air for hours." He shuddered. "It gets right down your throat. I can put up with in my Dad's gaff but not here."

"If you're using that logic, then surely Jay isn't allowed over either."

"He's always going to be here."

"His aftershave is surely worse than Roxy's."

Ben lifted his T-shirt to his nose, sniffed. "I wear that aftershave too."

"Take. The. Hint."

"At least I don't smell like a woman. I swear you've been taking a bath in your Nan's perfume"

Paul playfully punched him on the arm. "It was a Christmas present, she spent hours picking that out for me." He smiled. "And anyway, Grandad says…"

Ben placed a hand over Paul's mouth. "I have a new drinking game. The rules are simple; every time you say Grandad says, I take a shot of vodka. I'll be passed out within an hour, but it could catch on."

Paul patted his hand out the way. "I'm sorry I offended you by loving my grandparents." He couldn't help but smile.

"Mate, you could write a book; I can see it now, it would be called The World According to Les Coker." He winked. "It would be endorsed by Richard and Judy, have more pages than War and Peace and would of course have a full unedited transcript of everything Granddad says - including an exclusive interview with his wife Pam, who shares what it's like to have bagged the one man that every girl dreams about."

"Ha ha, very funny." He attempted to look serious, failed miserably.

After a moment, Ben gestured to the keys in Paul's hands. "C'mon then, I didn't spend all afternoon cleaning for us to stand outside the whole time."

Paul looked bewildered. "Where is the key?"

Ben took them in his own hand, selected a plastic disc. "Look, it's a fob." He placed it underneath, the door handle, making a green light flash. "There, all you gotta do is wave it in front of the sensor and it will unlock automatically." Placing his hand on the knob, he pushed open the door.

He stepped to the side. "Go on in, take a look."

"Aren't you going to carry me over the threshold?" He gave him his best pout. "It's our new home; I expect that as a minimum."

"I am not carrying you anywhere."

"Go on, just once."

Ben sighed. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

Ben crouched slightly. "Alright, hop on."

He shook his head. "A piggy back? That is the least romantic thing I think you've ever done. "

"You're pushing your luck." He turned around. "C'mon, get over my shoulder."

"I'm not a sack of potatoes." Paul crossed his arms amused. "I want to be carried officer and gentleman style or I don't want to be carried at all."

"Good! because I don't want to carry you at all." He moved to enter the flat.

Paul reached out, took him by the arm. "There's only one way you're getting me in there." He took a few steps backwards, leant up against the opposite wall. "I can wait."

Ben let out another hefty sigh "Bloody hell, you're really starting to wind me up now." Despite this, he walked over to where Paul was stood. "Right… if I'm gonna do this, you tell no one and I mean no one."

"You have my word."

Ben slowly shook his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this; I must be daft in the head." He reached down towards Paul's legs. "Put your arms around my neck I guess." Taking a second to position his hands where they needed to be, Ben pushed up from his knees and hoisted Paul off the ground, taking the full force of his weight.

"See that wasn't so bad."

Ben felt a searing pain running up and down his arms, almost as if his muscles were on fire. "You're heavier than you look." Slowly, his face began to turn a bright purple, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "My God, Paul, what have your grandparents actually been feeding you?" He took a step forwards, stumbled slightly to the left before steadying himself.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "You ok there?"

"I'm fine." His voice was uncharacteristically high pitched.

"Then why aren't we moving?"

"I'm about to, just hold on a moment." Taking another step forwards, he felt Paul begin to slip in his arms. "Hang on, I gotta stop." Clumsily, he readjusted the hold, then slowly inched forward.

Paul raised a hand to his mouth, supressed a laugh. "You can't do it, can you? Ben, the hard man Mitchell, isn't strong enough."

"Yes, I am." He took a few deep inhalations; the current shortness of breath was comparable to what he would experience after running up a steep flight of stairs. "I'm just taking my time, ain't I?"

"Maybe speed up a bit?"

Beyond the point of talking, Ben merely nodded. Once more, he put one foot in front of the other. This time he managed two more steps.

A sudden twinge shot up his back.

He heard a crick.

He let a shout.

He dropped Paul.

Ben doubled over and cursed loudly. "My back, I think I broke my back."

Paul began shouting too, clutching his head. "You dropped me." For a moment, he lay still, his vision blurred from the impact. "I'm not a ragdoll, you can't just throw me down."

"I didn't mean too! You're just so heavy." He rubbed at his back.

"Most people would have just gently put me down, but no, you had to slam-dunk me with as much force as possible." He reached up, placed a hand on the area that took the force of the blow; already a lump had begun to swell.

"Never mind your head, my back is broken!"

"It's not broken; you wouldn't be able to walk if it was."

"This is agony." Ben lowered himself down onto the ground. "I gotta lie down; this is all your fault."

"My fault? You turn me into a human javelin and suddenly it's my fault." He got to his knees, buried his head in his hands. "It hurts like hell, thanks for asking."

"Don't you start." He stretched out flat on the ground.

Before the argument could be taken further, the sound of the neighbours door creaking open brought the exchange to an abrupt end.

Looking up from where they were on the floor, their eyes immediately fell on a middle aged couple. The man, smartly dressed stood slightly in front of his wife, looking bewildered. Ben studied them for a moment. They looked like a parallel universe Billy and Honey, where they had hit the big time and could now afford a luxury apartment and designer clothes.

The husband was the first to speak. "Pardon me for intruding, but my wife and I couldn't help but hear the commotion." He said. "Is everything alright?"

Ben took a second to compose himself. "Uh yeah, we're good; just had a bit of a fall, that's all."

"You threw me to the ground!" Unsteadily, Paul got to his feet.

Embarrassed, Ben gave them an apologetic look. "I didn't throw him; I put my back out trying to carry him and I ended up dropping him."

The wife stepped around her husband, knelt down to where Ben was laid on the floor. "Would you like us to call you an ambulance?" She reached into her pocket, retrieved her phone. "Maybe it would be a good idea to see a doctor."

Ben noted that although she looked like Honey, she spoke like Joanna Lumley.

Paul rolled his eyes. "He's fine."

Billy. 2 spoke up. "In all due respect, I wouldn't call being flat out on the floor fine."

His wife nodded. "Yes, a bad back is a terrible thing." She placed a comforting hand on Ben's shoulder. "I have this wonderful physiotherapist; I really must give you his number. He's a complete god send."

"He sorted my neck right out." Billy. 2 nodded.

Ignoring the suggestion, Paul sighed, crouched down and picked Ben up as if he was no heavier than a pillow. "What he needs is some deep heat and a comfy bed."

Honey's doppelganger's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure you can manage? We don't want you injuring your back either."

"Paul, put me down." Ben hissed.

"I will… once we get in." Paul flashed the couple one of his winning grins, turned on his heel, entered the flat and closed the door with his foot. "Right, which one is the bedroom?"

"First door on the left." Ben was clearly unimpressed. "I feel like a right div."

"That because you are one." Awkwardly he put his back to the door and pushed the handle with his elbow."

Once he entered, Paul's jaw literally dropped.

The bed was bigger than he ever could've hoped for.

Gently, he put Ben down, held onto him until he was on his feet.

Ben rubbed at his own back. "Go on then, don't just stand there with your mouth wide open; tell me what you think."

"It's … It's amazing." He said. "But how did you buy this? I've got your credit card."

He flashed him an evil smile. "I know the combination to my Dad's safe, don't I?"

Paul was suddenly less enthusiastic. "You stole from him?"

He shook his head. "Course not, I left an I. O. U note."

"Oh yeah, because that's really going to smooth things over." Paul couldn't mask the worry in his eyes. "He's going to break your neck; you do know that right?"

Despite this, Ben's smile didn't falter. Walking over to the bed, he made himself comfortable in the middle of it, patted the space next to him. "Have you ever done it on a water bed before?"

Within half a second, his smile returned. "No way."

He nodded. "Try it yourself if you don't believe me." Ben picked up an armful of cushions and threw them off the bed.

Paul took a running jump, belly flopping down on top of it; getting to his feet, he bounced up and down a few times. "This is amazing."

Ben grabbed his hand and pulled him down into the lying position. "Sure is, Paul." He smiled. "Thought you'd like it."

"I love it. I've never had one this big before." He turned, plumped the pillow behind him. "Can't believe it's all mine."

"Well, half of it anyway." Ben replied. "Unless your planning on making me kip on the sofa."

"No chance." He shuffled in, closing the gap that separated them.

Ben lifted his hand, ran his fingers through Paul's hair. "How's your head anyway?"

"Hurts."

Ben reached over, opened the draw of the bedside table. "I'm sure I put some paracetamol in here earlier." He continued to rifle. "At least I thought I had, but then again, I may have moved them to the bathroom cabinet."

"Just leave it, I'm sure it will pass." Paul removed his shoes, lifted the duvet and covered himself. "C'mon get in here."

He did as instructed. "What do you think of the sheets? I got them cheap off the market."

"They'll do… for now." Paul fumbled around in his pocket, produced the credit card. "I'm sure if I go online I can find some better ones, especially now I've got this."

"Just keep in mind that it ain't free money, I do have to pay it back."

"Don't worry, I won't go too crazy."

"Somehow, I don't believe you." Moving onwards, he placed a hand on Paul's chest, unbuttoning his shirt. "Anyway, let's not talk about money right now; I can think of much better things to be doing in this bed.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure that you're up to it with that back?"

Ben waved a dismissive hand. "No harm done."

"No harm done?" His tone was one of outrage. "You're telling me that after the show you put on out there, that there is no harm done?"

Ignoring the question, Ben lowered his hands down to Paul's trousers and undid his belt, sliding it off with ease. "New flat, new bed; it's only right that we christen the place."

"You're such a drama queen! That couple outside were all for calling you an ambulance."

"C'mon, make me feel better then." He pulled him in for another kiss.

Unable to stay angry for too long, Paul soon relaxed. "Just mind the headboard alright? Another bang to the head will really kill the mood."

"I think I can manage that." Quickly, he tore off his own shirt and flung it across the room.

Paul watched as the shirt landed on a lampshade. He turned so he was lying on his stomach. "Someone is keen." He winked. following Ben, he took off his own.

"Damn right I am." Ben climbed on top of him, removing his trousers and underwear as he did so. He leant down and kissed his neck. "Just think, after today, we'll be free to do this whenever we want without any interruptions."

Paul closed his eyes and submerged himself in the moment. He could feel Ben's hands sliding up and down the backs of his legs. It felt exciting – just as exciting as the first time.

He noted how cold Ben's feet felt against his own, however, there was something oddly satisfying about it.

He loved the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck.

He loved the strong grip he had on his hips.

Then it happened, slowly at first, gradually picking up the pace as they delved deeper into the experience, until finally they felt like they could fully let go; even trying new things that they'd only ever dared think about in their wildest imaginations.

Long after it was over, they continued to hold onto each other. "Blimey Paul, I knew you were into some weird stuff, but that was something else." Ben said.

"Did you like it?"

"Did you hear me complaining?"

"Quite the opposite actually."

"There you go then."

For a moment, they both laughed. Paul swung his legs over the side of the bed, scooped up his clothes. "C'mon you, we can't spend all day in bed."

"Speak for yourself." He lifted the duvet that had been covering his naked body. "In fact, I reckon I'm good to go again."

Placing his own clothes to the side, Paul scanned the floor until he spotted Ben's boxers; picking them up, he tossed them back at him. "And I'm ready to see my new bathroom."

oOo

Pam arrived home to find Les sitting at the kitchen table; a mug of tea had gone cold in front of him. She discarded a bag of shopping next to the front door, took the seat opposite him. "Well, did you speak to her?"

Slowly he nodded. "I saw her."

"What did she say?"

Les gave her an uneasy smile. "She obviously brought certain things up and who could blame her?" Uncertainly, he placed a hand on top of hers. "I just keep going over it, you know? I can't have you losing him for the mistakes I've made."

She tensed. "Les Coker, I will not hear of such nonsense."

"If we're going to tell him the truth, we're going to have to face up to what I did and how you've been protecting me ever since." He paused, looked her full in the eyes. "You may have been ruthless, but let's not pretend that any of that would've happened if it wasn't for me."

"That's enough, Les." Her tone was sharp.

"Is that what you're going to say to Paul?"

"We're going to have to tread carefully, I'm not saying we won't." She said. "But you're my husband, I did what I did at the time for you and I will continue to stand by it."

"He'll never understand, Birdie."

"Then, we'll make him understand." Her tone was adamant. "Yes, you were foolish, Les, but haven't we all been at some stage? We had been going through that rough patch and honestly, I don't blame for having some sort of mid- life crisis."

Les rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Is that what we're calling it now? I seem to remember last time, you referred to it as a nervous breakdown." Suddenly hot, he loosened his tie. "Nervous breakdown, minor indiscretion, mid-life crisis; pick the one you like best and make it fit."

I had to cope somehow." She said. "I did unethical things, lied to Laurie for rest of his life and have been doing the same to Paul for all of his. I can sometimes barely look at myself knowing the things I've done… so if I like to make myself feel better somehow, then surely you can respect that."

A look of remorse spread across his features. "I should've done the right thing years ago; that was my mess and you've been cleaning it up ever since." He studied her for a moment; he could've sworn that every day he fell in love with her just that little bit more. "A wonderful woman like yourself could've had anyone she wanted; I can never understand why you came back to me."

"What do you mean I could've had anyone I wanted? I did have who I wanted." She inched her chair closer to him. "I still do and as long as we're together, I always will." A sad look appeared in her eyes. "But, without Paul, I don't know how I'd cope; We're a family of three, Les."

"Oh Birdie." He placed a strong arm around her shoulder. "Whatever happens from here on out, I will protect you, just as passionately as you did me. You hear me? I will own all my mistakes and leave him in no doubt as to where his anger should lie."

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified." Les admitted. "And I have been since the first time I held him; I think it's made me love him even more. I used to stand in the doorway of his room, watching as Laurie would put him to bed in his little cot."

"Me too."

"And to tell you the truth, Pam, during the times where Laurie would leave him unattended to go to the bathroom or to answer the phone, I would consider just scooping him up and running out the door with him." He gave her a chance to respond; when none came, he continued onwards. "I used to think if I took him far enough away, we'd reach somewhere where the truth could never come out and I'd never have to live with the fear of losing him ever again."

She considered this for a moment. "What stopped you?"

"I'd look at you and I'd look at Laurie." He explained. "When it came down to it, there was no way I could've left any of you behind; there may have been times where I couldn't stand the sight of Laurie, but that didn't mean I loved him any less."

"I understand." She agreed. "Before Paul was born, I'd lose track of the amount of times I'd cry myself to sleep over his behaviour; he was out of control at times."

"I hit him the once you know."

Pam recoiled in horror. "You did what?" She couldn't hide the shock on her face. "I've never seen you be violent to either the boys."

"And I never have been with Paul." He was quick to state. "With Laurie it was just the once. I got up in the middle of the night because I heard a noise downstairs in the chapel of rest; when I got down there, Laurie was stood over this older woman we were burying, prising a diamond ring off her finger."

Pam clasped a hand to her mouth. "No." She shook her head. "How could he?"

"I just saw red, Pam." He explained. "I didn't ask questions, I just lashed out; he fell to the ground, I grabbed the ring from him and returned it to her finger. I pulled him out from there and kept the room locked from there on out."

"Did he ever say why?"

"I didn't ask." He paused. "Although I have a fair idea; I never properly confronted him about it, because I couldn't face the thought of how many others he had done that to; we were meant to be giving a top class service to grieving relatives, but all the while our own son was robbing them."

"I knew he could stoop low, but that?"

"When I think of the man he became when Paul came along, it's hard to believe it was the same person." He sighed. "Do you think he would've reverted back if he had ever found out?"

"I'd like to hope not, but what else did he have apart from us and Paul?"

"I only wish he'd stayed in school, you know? It wasn't as if he wasn't clever, he could've gotten some good grades, maybe gone to university." He paused to think. "Whatever possessed him to knock about with the people he did, or do the things he did will forever be beyond my understanding."

"I sometimes think I must've gone wrong somewhere as a mother." Pam started chewing her finger nails. "Three years I was gone and in that time, I left you alone to deal with him, when really I should've been there to help you get him under control."

"Don't do this to yourself, Pam." He gave her a look of warning. "He was sixteen when we separated; perfectly capable of looking after himself. When Paul was that age, he'd already moved out."

Pam leant back in her chair, stared up at the ceiling. "Paul always used to think that we compared him to Laurie; I think he thought that we wished he was more like him. Truth is, he's everything that we ever could've wanted."

Les nodded. "And that is what stops me going mad with guilt; I look at him every day and tell myself, that if it meant I could still have him, I would do it all again."

"I would too." She was quiet for a moment, gestured to the mug of tea in front of him. "You haven't touched your tea; tell you what, how about I make us a fresh one? I'm sure I have some custard creams hidden in one of the cupboards somewhere."

"Hidden?"

"Well, you know what Ben's like, if he'd have got to them first, the whole packet would've been devoured before we even so much as had a crumb." Taking the mug in her hand, she took it to the kitchen and poured the cold tea away. "I don't know where he puts it all; you weren't here last week when we ordered Chinese were you?"

"Uh, no." Les was taken aback by the sudden change in direction of the conversation.

"He had two chow meins." Pam shook her head. "I mean honestly, Les; you've seen the size of their portions, how he managed it on top of those spare ribs and chips he had is beyond me." She reached into the cupboard, retrieved the tea bags and flipped on the kitchen. "And then he finished what Paul left behind; it was quite the sight."

Les hated it when she got like this. "I've seen him eat before, Birdie." It took everything he had to mask the annoyance in his voice.

"And if you're wondering where that tub of ice cream went, he had that too; me and Paul didn't get a look in."

"Pam, I don't want to talk about ice cream right now." He said. "What we need to discuss as you full well know, is how are we going to deal with it, when Paul demands that we find out for sure."

She kept her back to him, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't know if I could deal with it, Les."

Les softened his tone. "It's going to be difficult, but you don't honestly expect him to let it drop."

"Maybe he'll feel the same? What we have now works, doesn't it?" Her voice was a sad mixture of desperation and heartbreak. "Why would he want to risk that? And if it does come out that…. Well I couldn't bear it Les, I just wouldn't cope."

"He's not going to feel the same." Les tried to sound assertive. "You know what he's like; make no mistake, as soon as we tell him, the first thing he will do is find out for certain and when he does, we will no longer be left wondering."

"I don't wonder anymore. It solves nothing, so I gave up doing so years ago."

Suddenly angry, he sprang to his feet. "Well, I haven't!" Les didn't even try to control the volume of his voice. "I wonder every single day; every time I look at him."

Impulsively, she grabbed hold of the mug and threw it across the room, watching as it narrowly avoided her husband, before smashing into small pieces against the opposite wall. "It's just too much." In seconds, she was sat on the kitchen floor, sobbing. "I've tried work it out myself; I always thought that as he grew up, it would be apparent, but it's not."

Without hesitation, Les joined her on the floor. "I can't work it out either." He admitted. "But all things considered, it really is no surprise."

"He's got all the Coker looks hasn't he?"

Les nodded. "The men of the family always did have that distinguished look; the hair, the cheek bones… It's something all generations have shared." He considered this further. "Unfortunately, quite a lot of my relatives have been burdened with diabetes too."

At this, Pam found herself in tears once more. "But he doesn't look like me, does he? Laurie looked mostly like you, but when you looked into his eyes, people could see me in him." She glanced over at a family photograph of the three of them together. "But Paul…"

Les suddenly interrupted. "Don't do this to yourself."

"But does he? Does he look like me Les?"

With that, he got to his feet and picked up the same photograph that Pam had been studying seconds before. He kept his eyes on it for a while, his eyes darting back and forth between the images of his wife and grandson. "No…" He admitted. "He looks nothing like you."

oOo

Ben perched on the edge of the bath, poured some champagne into a glass and passed it over to Paul. "I can't believe you're taking a bath." He laughed.

"I can't believe you're not." He adjusted the speed of the jets. "We should get some bubble bath."

"If you're hosting a foam party and you're willing to clean it up, then go ahead." He placed his hand in the water, splashed at him. "Otherwise, you shouldn't use it in this type of tub. Apparently, the last time a tenant did that, it reached the living room."

"That is so not true."

"It might be."

Paul shook his head. "Didn't happen."

"Could've happened."

"But it didn't, did it?"

Grabbing the champagne bottle again, Ben poured himself a glass, took a large gulp. "Well, no, but it was an interesting story for like a second." He dipped his finger in the water, turned on the tap, injecting some hot water. "Surely you're wrinkling up by now."

Paul inspected his fingers; indeed, he was. "Will you still fancy me in fifty years when I look like this for real?" He held out his hand for Ben to inspect.

"Always." He winked. "Even when you lose your hair and I have to push you around in a wheel chair."

Paul painted on a look of mock insult." Uh… excuse me, I am not going to lose my hair."

"I've seen old photographs of your grandfather and I expect he said the same." He said. "But what about you? Would you still fancy me when I'm old and passed it?"

"I'm not promising anything; I don't want to wake up one morning and find myself sleeping next to a Phil Mitchell doppelganger." He shuddered.

"Oi!" He laughed: turned on the cold tap, filled up his glass and flung it in Paul's direction.

"Don't get my hair wet; I haven't brought anything to stop it frizzing."

"Whoa, your masculinity just took a serious hit then." At this point, he had only been wearing his boxers; slipping them off he climbed into the bath. "I suppose I'd enjoy it whilst it lasts; it won't be long before you have any left."

"If I'm losing my hair, you're certainly losing yours."

"How do you make that one out?"

"Have you looked at your Dad and Uncle recently?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it will skip a generation? You wait, in fifty years time I'll have as much hair as I do now."

"And meanwhile, poor Lexi will be walking around with a head like an egg?"

"Yeap, like I said, it skips a generation."

"Poor girl."

"I wouldn't worry about it, when the time comes, we'll gather up all the hair you will have lost and make her a nice wig." Ben shuffled up. "Switch places with me."

"No, I don't want the tap end."

"You've been in here bleeding ages, take one for the team."

"If I called shotgun in your car, you wouldn't make me move." Paul said. "It's the same concept with the tap end."

"No it ent!"

"That's the rules, Ben."

He frowned. "I've got a bad back, I don't want these things sticking into it."

"Nuh uh, you said earlier that it was fine, you don't get to suddenly change your mind to get your own way."; Paul gestured for him to come closer. "Just come here, there's no reason why either one of us should be down that end."

Doing as he was told, Ben relaxed into him, his head coming to rest on Paul's shoulder. "Talking of Lexi, I've been thinking."

"Oh yeah?" Paul was intrigued.

"How about we have her over one of these days?" He turned to look at him. "I'm not talking anything major, but what about if we had her over for tea, or took her out for the day?"

"What's brought all this on?"

Suddenly, a look of doubt spread across his face. "Forget it, I shouldn't have said anything; it was stupid." He said. "I was just thinking with us doing all this, it would be nice for her to see me settled."

"It's not stupid." Paul said. "It's a great idea."

"Yeah?"

"Of course it is." He continued. "Lola used to bring her into the salon when we worked together; she's a lovely child."

Ben considered this for a moment. "She won't even recognise me by now."

"Does it matter? Children are a lot more accepting than adults." He sunk down further into the water. "We'll take her to the zoo, buy her some ice cream and she won't care how long you've left it."

"I just want her to be proud of me, you know?"

"And she will. We'll have our own business, our own flat; if that's not a stable environment, then I don't know what is." Paul took a further moment for consideration. "She's must only four years old; compared to how many years you will have with her; it is not too late to start being her Dad."

"It could work, couldn't it?"

He nodded. "We'll make it work."

Before anything more could be said, the shrill ring of Ben's phone brought the conversation to an abrupt end. Ben reached over, read the caller ID. "Do me a favour, would ya?" He passed the phone over to Paul. "It may seem odd, but I want you to answer it and whatever they say, just go along with it, alright?"

Paul accepted the call. "Uh… hello?" … "Alright, that's fine I guess." He shot Ben a bewildered look. "And that's in half an hours' time?" …. "Sure, we'll be there." A look of confusion on his face, he hung up and handed the phone back to Ben. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Did you not get what you need from that call?"

"You've made an appointment with a tattoo parlour." He stated. "You're not seriously thinking about getting one are you? I hate tattoos."

Ben reached over, retrieved a towel. "You'll like this one, trust me. Now stop moaning and put your clothes back on."


End file.
